


Two Piña Coladas

by spinner33



Series: Friends Don't Let Friends.... [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Button Fly.   Danny ties one on.  Steve comes to his rescue.  </p><p>“For future reference, ma’am, there is a point past which you need to stop serving to a patron.  Like when he’s waving around a loaded gun, and tongue-kissing anything with a pulse?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

McGarrett could hear the twangy music the second he pulled open the door to the hole-in-the-wall bar. 

“ ‘Just give me two Piña Coladas, one for each hand. Let’s set sail with Captain Morgan, and never leave dry land’.”

“Evening, ma’am,” Steve said, showing his badge to the woman at the bar. 

“Commander McGarrett? Thank God you’re here. If he plays that song one more time, I’m gonna hurt him.”

Steve nodded to the bartender, biting back a smile. She directed his attention to the jukebox in the back of the establishment. McGarrett’s jaw dropped, even as his heart swelled with sympathy.

“Is he yours?” she asked. 

Steve bowed his head, and rubbed fingertips between his eyebrows. 

“Yep. Thanks for calling me. I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Do us all a favor, and get him some voice lessons while you’re at it.” 

Steve took his time strolling through the rest of the grumpy patrons, letting his eyes take in the sights, so to speak. There was Danny Williams, shoulders and head slouched on the chrome and glass front of the lucky jukebox. Purple and pink lights were highlighting Danny’s rumpled, white shirt and unraveled tie. Danny’s perfect, round derriere was swaying back and forth to the melodic tones of Garth Brooks’ music. Steve gulped and quelled his racing heart. Those tailored pants could not have been any tighter. Williams was holding his sidearm loosely in one hand, tapping the top of the jukebox with it. That probably explained why no one else had dared to take Danny in tow – they were afraid of getting capped. There were quarters all over the floor around the machine. 

Because Danny was such a good friend, there was no way Steve would give into the burning desire to pull out his phone and videotape this for extortion purposes, or even for posterity. McGarrett was steadfastly compartmentalizing every other burning desire that was surfacing about now too. It was a memorable sight though – Danny Williams, tanked to the gills, howling off-key to the country tune as his lower half swayed to the music. Steve wasn’t reaching for his phone camera mainly because he loved Danny too dearly. He knew his friend would be terribly embarrassed, but also because McGarrett was too busy watching that ass move around to do much of anything else. It was all he could do to not stride over, and give Danny a good, hard swat, among other things. 

“ ‘Oh, now I’ve got to say that the wind and the waves, and the moon winking down at me, eases my mind by leaving behind the heartaches that love often brings. Now I’ve got a smile that goes on for miles, with no inclination to roam. And I’ve gotta say that I think I gotta stay, cause this is feeling more and more like home’,” Danny was bellowing. 

As the song geared up for the chorus once more, Steve had to admit that his appreciation for the tune was only augmented by watching Danny dance around to it. It wasn’t the first time Steve had heard the tune – one of the members of his special ops team had been a huge country music fan. Navigator always called music on missions, and ‘mood music’ for Lonestar had ranged from Garth Brooks to 3 Doors Down, and everything in between. Thinking about Lonestar inevitably led to thinking about Freddie too. Poor Freddie. Open another compartment, close another door. 

Back to the problem at hand. It’s just that McGarrett never would have pictured a born-and-bred Jersey man like Danny listening to country tunes except under threat of death. Williams gave a loud shout and turned around, losing his balance. Steve lurched forward and caught Williams before he smacked hard to the dirty floor. Everyone behind Steve hit the deck in a wave of panic. Danny was gesticulating with his weapon in his hand, his smile bright and wide. 

“STEVE!!!!” Danny beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here! Join me! I’ll buy you a drink. I’ll buy you twelve drinks.” 

“You wanna watch where you point that?” 

“It’s not loaded,” Danny replied. 

McGarrett deftly plucked the gun away, and pulled out the full clip. 

“Oh, it’s not?” he asked wryly, slamming the clip back into place. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Danny breathed. He wasn’t so tanked that he didn’t realize how dangerous his actions had been. 

Steve tucked Danny’s sidearm into a pocket of his cargo pants with one hand while easing Danny down to the floor with the other arm. The scent of alcohol that wafted off his buddy was giving him a contact high. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most beautiful eyes?” Williams purred sultrily.

“A few people,” Steve murmured, not unamused. 

“Can I buy you a drink, Super SEAL?” 

“Raincheck. It’s time to go, Danno.” 

“But I’m just getting started,” Danny protested, stroking Steve’s cheek, lacing an arm up around McGarrett’s shoulders. 

“I’m gonna take you home now,” Steve promised, looping an arm around Danny’s waist and hauling him up right. To Steve’s surprise, Danny put both arms around his neck and dragged downward with all his might. When Steve’s face was in range, Danny pressed their lips together. 

A gasp went through the bar. McGarrett caught his breath as Danny’s tongue slid teasingly into his mouth. Steve looked dutifully horrified for the crowd, and quickly detached himself from ‘Lips O’Matic’ Williams. 

“You have definitely had too many,” Steve decided. 

“Take me, handsome, I’m yours,” Danny pleaded. 

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong?” Steve asked, ignoring the stares and the whispers as he guided Danny for the door. This was the wrong crowd to be so ‘progressive’ in front of. The disgusted stares and homophobic muttering which rolled off Danny, who was feeling no pain, were making Steve’s sense of danger tingle. The Navy SEAL had spent too many years reading the body language of a crowd, and knowing when he needed to make himself scarce to avoid getting killed. McGarrett was pretty sure the only thing protecting him and Danny from a serious ass-kicking was the fact that he had shown his badge when he walked through the front door. 

“Fucking Rachel…..” Danny groaned. All merriment vanished from his person. That name was all he needed to say. Steve sighed in sympathy, and scooped Danny easily off the ground, one arm under his shoulders and one arm under his legs. 

“Ex-wife,” Steve grumbled to the gaping bartender on his way to the door. He stopped and whirled back around, protectiveness boiling to the surface even as his heart was breaking for the man nestled trustingly against his neck. “For future reference, ma’am, there is a point past which you need to stop serving to a patron. Like when he’s waving around a loaded gun, and tongue-kissing anything with a pulse?” 

“Commander, I haven’t served him a single drink,” the bartender protested. “Your little buddy staggered in here already drunk.” 

Steve’s dubious stare made it plain he didn’t believe her. How had she known to call McGarrett if Danny hadn’t taken out his wallet, where he carried an ICE card with Steve’s name and contact info on it? In Case of Emergency, this is the person to call? Steve had an identical card in his own wallet with Danny’s contact info on it. He knew good and well Danny had ordered at least one drink, if not more. McGarrett wasn’t going to press the issue tonight. Bet your ass he was putting this place on his watch list for violations though. For now, he bit his tongue and concentrated on the bundle in his arms. He held Danny closer, and exited the bar, still feeling every fucking eye in the place on his back. 

“Do you have any idea where you parked?” Steve whispered gently into Danny’s ear. Williams moaned, lifted his head, and stared around in some concern. 

“I walked. I think?” 

“It’s like five miles from your apartment!” Steve chided, shuddering as he pictured Danny staggering through traffic.

“She’s using me, Steve,” Danny growled. 

“I know, Danno. I know.”

“Rachel is using me, and I deserve better than being jerked around like this.”

“You deserve so much better, Danno. I’ve been telling you that for almost a year now. But you don’t listen to me.”

“I listen. I don’t want to. But I do. She’s using me to make Step-Stan jealous, and she’s using him to make me jealous, and she’s using Grace to keep me in line, and using me to keep Stan in line. Rachel is a manipulative asshat, and I hate her guts! But oh man! I love her too. I worship her. I love her so much. I miss her. I’d do anything for her. I’d do anything to get her to take me back. I would beg. I would crawl. What’s the matter with me? Why am I still in love with someone who hurts me like this? Someone who uses me like this? What the hell is the matter with me, Steven?” 

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I can relate.” 

“You’re fucking your ex-wife who uses emotional manipulation and amazing sex to make you bend to her every whim?” 

“No, but…”

“Then don’t tell me you can relate,” Danny pouted. 

“Point well taken,” McGarrett whispered back. He set Danny’s feet down, and angled him against the side of the Silverado. Danny was puzzled by the change in his horizon. 

“Lose something?” Williams wondered as Steve patted pockets and frowned. The two men were highlighted by the halo from a street light. Danny began to help Steve pat his pockets, and took the opportunity to slide a hand between McGarrett’s thighs. Steve leapt back in surprise. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t make me get my cuffs.” 

“Tell me I’m worth it.” 

“What?” Steve gulped. 

“Tell me you’d sleep with me if I asked.” 

“Daniel, this is no time for….”

“Just tell me that I’m worth it. Tell me I’m attractive. Tell me. I need to hear the words. That’s all.”

Steve stopped hunting for his keys. He pulled Danny’s hand against his heart, and gave him a very gentle pat on the cheek. 

“Danno, you’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met, inside and out. You’re adorable, and plucky…”

“Fuck you,” Danny muttered sourly.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you you’re my special princess?” Steve wondered, trailing fingertips through Danny’s disarrayed hair. 

“No. Just be serious,” Danny pleaded, smacking the hand away from his hair.

“You want me to tell you there are days when I get depressed, and you are the only reason I haven’t swallowed my gun?” 

“Be serious, Steven.” 

“Danny, you are worth it. You’re so worth it. You are attractive. You are wonderful. You deserve a lot better than being jerked around this way. I don’t know why you’re still in love with Rachel. That’s not something I can fix for you. Love is an evil thing. It’s not ponies and rainbows. Love makes us ache. Love makes us crawl. Love is degrading, and it’s painful, and it’s embarrassing. You deserve so much better than how Rachel is using you. You deserve to be adored for the wonderful human being that you are. You’re loyal. You’re spunky. Very spunky. Heavy on the spunk. Is that better than plucky?”

“Spunky is good. What about the rest?” 

“I would sleep with you at the slightest hint of an invitation.”

“Now you’re talking, sailor boy,” Danny grinned widely, his cheeks rounding with a smile as he gripped both of Steve’s shoulders. 

“But not tonight,” Steve frowned, taking those hands down gently. 

“You got a headache?” Danny snorted, letting go of Steve’s shoulders, running his hands down his chest, taking a good grip on both hips. 

“You’re out of your mind. You don’t have any idea what you’re saying. DETECTIVE WILLIAMS! GET IN THE TRUCK!” McGarrett bellowed, hoping that the crack in his voice didn’t betray the panic rising in his chest. 

With an impish laugh, Danny retracted his hands from groping Steve’s ass. 

“Have I ever told you how wet that commanding voice of yours makes me?” 

“Get in the truck,” Steve growled. Bar patrons were beginning to stare out the front window. One of them opened the door and stood outside, crossing his arms over his chest as he commented snidely to a couple buddies waiting just inside the door. McGarrett did not like the looks of that crew, not one bit. 

“So sensitive,” Danny complained as he pulled on the door handle of the truck. “Hey, genius. Your keys are right here,” he added, pointing to the steering column. 

“Just get in,” Steve pleaded, one eye on Danny and one eye on the group at the door of the bar, mentally reassuring himself with the idea that he had Danny’s sidearm within reach in his pocket. Danny managed to get halfway into the truck. Then he laid down on the front seat, knees against the side of the seat, cute little rump sticking out at McGarrett. 

Steve made a soft, whimpering noise, and looked anywhere but down. 

“Is this good?” Danny asked, closing his eyes, moving his butt around. Steve lifted Danny’s legs, and rotated him sideways. He pushed him up into the other side of the front seat like a big rucksack.


	2. Chapter 2

It was well after noon by the time Danny opened his eyes. He allowed the world back in slowly and carefully. His head was pounding and throbbing like he had a Norwegian death metal band rocking it out in his brain pan. Hellhammer all the way! His mouth tasted like dirt and copper and tropical fruit. He was face down on an unfamiliar bed, nose buried in mismatched but freshly-washed linens. He could imagine what he looked like from above – his compact, muscular body splayed out like a dead starfish on this beige and blue beach. 

A tiny ding penetrated Danny’s brain. He rolled over, shielding his eyes from the exuberant sunshine. Some evil human being with a wide sadistic streak had raised the blinds and opened the curtains, making sure every square inch of the room was bathed in golden rays. Danny crawled to a seated position, and held onto the bedpost as the world slowly came into focus. 

Williams could see himself in the mirror on the dresser. He must have gone to bed with wet hair, because it was standing on end in the back, but was smashed down on the left side. He had a vague memory of a shower head pouring water down on him, but not much else. He had red lines on his face and his limbs where he had been pressed against the bed. Danny’s stomach was beginning to churn, and not just because of the hangover. He had a terrible gaping hole in his brain concerning the last twelve hours or so, and it was not a happy feeling. 

The biggest surprise was that he was not wearing his own clothes. He was wearing black briefs and a black teeshirt. He stared down at a skull and crossbones, and a fouled Navy anchor, and bright white words: The beatings will continue until morale improves! Danny smiled slowly. At least he had had enough where-with-all to have gone home with someone he could trust. 

There was that muted bell again, like the universe was telling his brain it was time to get ready to go another round. Danny wasn’t sure he was up to the fight today. The bell was coming from downstairs, along with soft music and quiet singing. Danny pulled his dress pants off the end of the bed where they had been folded neatly. The clock on the nightstand said it was 1:30 p.m. He crept downstairs, tail between his legs. He steeled himself against the dressing-down he expected to receive. 

Danny made it part of the way down the steps with a minimum of stomach-churning pain. He didn’t want to push his luck though. He balled up on the stairs, and took in the scene below. There was a pillow and blanket folded up on the divan. Steve was walking back and forth between the stove and the counter, singing under his breath. 

“ ‘I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house, that don’t bother me’.” 

Steve had a surprisingly-pleasant singing voice, Danny noted. McGarrett was wearing a blue teeshirt and his beige cargo pants (quelle surprise). He had on a white apron. There was a dusting of flour on his broad chest and shoulders, over and around where the apron should have covered him, as though someone had dusted him on purpose. There was even flour in his hair. He was carrying a tray of sugar cookies fresh from the oven. Steve was singing softly as he moved the cookies to the cooling rack with the quick flip of an old spatula which had seen better days.

“ ‘And not saying that loving you was what I was trying to do’.”

“I think I’ve seen this porno,” Danny commented from the staircase. 

Steve whirled around with a surprised expression that Danny wished he could commit to film as well as memory. McGarrett gasped, both terrified and amused by the sight of Danny. The cookie on his spatula landed on the floor in several pieces. Steve recovered himself quickly.

“I doubt you have,” Steve remarked dryly, picking up the broken pieces, blowing on them before putting one in his mouth. Danny felt his stomach turn over roughly. He covered his hand with his mouth and swallowed back bile. Steve sheepishly put the remaining pieces in the sink. 

“What’s a porno?” Gracie asked, popping around the doorway. She stared up at her father with big, bright, curious eyes. 

“Uhhhhh….um…..nothing…..I…..Monkey?” 

Danny hopped to his feet and hurried to cover his ass, so to speak. Steve was biting back a grin, enjoying Danny’s discomfort. He shot Danny a meaningful smirk as he continued to move cookies to the cooling rack.

“Good morning! Grace! What a pleasant surprise!” 

“Do you feel better, Danno?” Grace asked as she put her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She patted him very tenderly on the back. “We were being quiet so we wouldn’t wake you up. You needed your beauty sleep.”

“I did?” 

“You looked bloody awful this morning. Your mouth was hanging open. You were making these wretched noises too,” Grace shuddered. 

“You were watching me sleep?” Danny grimaced. “That’s not at all creepy, babe,” he added, eyes on Steven. McGarrett avoided the accusing glare. 

“We were worried. You weren’t moving. You were moaning a lot too,” Steve defended. 

“We stayed outside all morning so you could sleep in,” Grace added. “We swam. We drew glyphs on the beach. We followed the turtles back and forth.” 

“Thank you. You are such a thoughtful person. You must get that from me,” Danny replied. Steve was eating broken cookie bits, a tender expression on his face before he turned away. 

“I told Gracie you had a headache, and that’s probably why you left her birthday party early last night,” McGarrett offered, giving the silvery tray a quick dash of cooking spray before picking up two spoons and starting to dish out tiny balls of dough in neat, orderly rows. 

“Very Bad Headache,” Danny winced. 

“Otherwise, you never would have left without giving her a hug and a smooch,” Steve continued to chastise gently. 

“Yeah…very bad headache.” 

“And I can’t believe you neglected to tell me it was Grace’s birthday, because I would have gotten her a present.”

“Awww. That’s sweet of you.”

“I’ll hit you twice next year,” Steve promised Grace. She shrugged and shook her head. 

“That’s okay. Mom and Step-Stan bought like half the toys in the store. It was embarrassing.” 

“What’s with all the cookies, Martha Stewart?” Danny wondered. 

“I asked Gracie if she wanted cake, and she said no. She wanted sugar cookies.”

“Cookies!” Grace cheered, pushing past Steve to snatch up a couple. 

“Hair of the dog, or black coffee?” Steve asked, pointing his chin towards the pot on to brew. 

“Black coffee, please. Bless you,” Danny groaned. 

“Whew. That’s a relief. I’m fresh out of rum and pineapple juice,” Steve mused. Danny wasn’t sure what that meant, but he rolled with it. 

“Monkey, did Mommy drive you over here this morning?” Danny asked Grace. His daughter was watching the two adults talk, and quietly taking in every subtle nuance that passed between them. Grace frowned at Danny, and shot a frightened look at McGarrett before replying. 

“Uncle Steve met me at your house, just like you told him to. I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer. I waited and waited, I don’t know how long. Uncle Steve drove up then, and said you had a headache, and you had sent him to get me. Stan and Mommy went to Paris this weekend. They dropped me off early this morning. Mommy told you last night. Don’t you remember?” Grace worried. 

“Of course I remember,” Danny lied weakly. “They dropped you off, but didn’t wait for me to open the door?” His voice rose with emotion. Danny wanted to hide himself away and cry till there were no more tears left in the world. 

Grace smiled at him comfortingly. She hurried over to Steve by the counter. McGarrett was biting his mouth closed to keep from interrupting. Grace muscled her way between McGarrett and the counter. She put her small hands on his huge forearms, helping him make small balls of dough. Steve let Gracie take over the spoons. He bent down and scooped her up, holding her on one hip. 

Danny poured himself a cup of coffee, his eyes never leaving the pair of them as Steve swung back and forth. Danny wished Grace didn’t have such a serious expression on her face. That doleful gaze was disappearing slowly though. Steve helped her pull on his kitchen mitts shaped like lobsters. She picked up the tray from the counter, and shoved it into the oven as Steve held the door down. 

“Set the timer for ten minutes. That’ll make them chewy in the center. So much better that way,” Steve said to Grace. She looped an arm around his neck and dashed tiny fingers over the buttons on the microwave. She popped a kiss to Steve’s cheek, jumped to the ground, and ran back to Danny. 

“If you feel better, we can go sit on the beach. Sunshine and water might help. But if not, we could close all the shades, stay inside in the dark, and watch Disney movies all day.”

“Think I’m going to go with Disney movies,” Danny said as he worked up a winsome smile, leaning one hip on the counter. 

“Only if you promise not to sing,” Steve mused. 

“I’ll be back in nine minutes and twenty-two seconds,” Grace announced, smacking Danny on the chest before racing through the back door. The heavy portal swung out, then banged back against the frame. Danny groaned in pain. 

“I haven’t heard this song in years,” Steve gushed, reaching over to turn the radio up a smidgen. His head bobbed as he busied himself with cleaning up flour and eggshells, butter wrappers and such. 

Danny sipped his coffee and glanced around. His eyes traveled down the long hallway to the washer and dryer. His dress shirt was there, along with a pile of linens and pillows. There was an ominous yellow-green splatter pattern over everything piled up. An ironing board and iron were tucked into the corner. Danny stared down at the borrowed teeshirt, and gave Steve’s back a bashful glance. McGarrett had felt Danny’s eyes. He raised his head, and his ears pricked up, but he continued cleaning the already-spotless counters. If he started whistling nonchalantly, Danny swore he would smack him, he really would. 

Danny’s dress pants felt freshly-washed and pressed. He ran sweaty fingers down one thigh, smoothing the edges of the tight, neat pleats. He would have felt so much better if Steve had just let him have it with both barrels, if McGarrett would have yelled and screamed and scolded him like he deserved. The awkward silence was far worse. 

“ ‘Let your love fly, like a bird on the wing, and let your love bind you, to all living things, and let your love shine, and you’ll know what I mean. That’s the reason,” Steve was humming, water running in the sink. He mischievously dashed a few sprinkles of water on Danny. “You know, my dad, he had the best voice. I remember one time, he was standing right here, and Mom was over there, and she was so mad at him about something stupid he had done. I can’t remember what, something dumb like letting Mare and me have ice cream on the way home from school. She was spitting mad, like, hands on the hips, sparks flying from her eyes. She was raising her voice, but he turned up the radio, and smiled at her, and took her hand, and pulled her in close. They were dancing around the kitchen right here, to this song. He loved her so much, always knew how to get through to her, how to make her smile.” 

Steve’s entire person stiffened with pain. He spun carefully away under the pretense of rearranging the dishes in the dishwasher. He looked so tired under that forced smile. Danny wondered how much sleep Steve had actually gotten.

“Sorry I was such a handful last night,” Danny offered, motioning with the mug of coffee. 

“No problem,” Steve rumbled, clearing his throat, sniffing softly. “What do you remember?” 

“Not much.” 

“That’s for the best,” Steve nodded. “You really tied one on. You’re officially banned from the Honky Tonk down off Water Street, by the way.” 

“What the hell was I doing there?” Danny frowned. 

Steve shrugged both shoulders, and made ducky lips while shaking his head. 

“They called your phone to tell you left your debit card. We’ll swing by later. I’ll go in. You can wait in the truck.”

“I don’t even like country music.” 

“Didn’t sell you any drinks, my ass,” Steve muttered angrily.

“How did I get there?” Danny worried. 

“I dunno.”

“How did I get here?” 

“The bartender called me. When I arrived, you were hugging the jukebox, waving your gun around, making a real ass of yourself.”

“I don’t even like country music,” Danny shuddered. 

Steve put soap in the dishwasher, and tapped a few buttons. "Don't blame me, man." 

“You’ve had some prior experience handling drunks, I take it?” Danny asked. Steve’s playful expression went melancholy and distant. 

“After my mom’s death, there were nights when I thought my dad was going to drink this island dry,” Steve rumbled. “He’d come walking, crawling home at 4 in the morning, smelling like the deep end of a rum barrel, barely able to get the front door open on his own. Yes, I’ve had some experience with drunks. I’d take off his clothes, and put him to bed, wonder where the hell he left the Marquis the night before.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No problem,” Steve reassured too quickly. He reached back to put an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “You’d do the same for me.” 

“Yeah,” Danny nodded, clearing his throat nervously. He brushed the flour out of Steve’s hair, pounded the white dust off his back too. Steve retracted the arm slowly. 

“I could have done without the pineapple-scented vomit bath though,” McGarrett added mirthfully. 

“I’m so sorry,” Danny moaned in shame. Steve kissed Danny on top of the head. 

“No worries, bruddah.” 

The microwave timer dinged. Grace rocketed through the back door, a stick in one hand, trailing sand everywhere. 

“IT’S TIME!” she shouted happily. Steve straightened up with brows rolling suspiciously. If Grace had been close enough to hear that small bell ding, she had been close enough to hear the rest of their conversation. 

“Wash those hands, miss. You’re not poking the honu with that stick, are you?” 

“No,” Grace denied. “Danno, come see!”

“Sunglasses in the table by the door,” Steve motioned, taking out the cookies, taking them off the tray. 

“Bless you,” Danny sighed, grabbing for the drawer, fishing out the dark glasses. 

“Hey,” Steve said, suddenly right behind Danny. He handed him one of the hot cookies, patting him on the shoulder. 

“What?” Danny asked, forcing himself to swallow a bite. 

“Promise me you’ll never drink like that in front of Gracie,” Steve whispered, dark eyes serious and stern. 

“I promise,” Danny replied instinctively. He meant it too. Steve nodded his approval. “Thanks. Thanks for everything,” Danny murmured. Steve shrugged, and broke off a part of Danny’s cookie. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Danny whispered, waves of melancholy washing over him, voice tightening in his throat. 

“Yes, you do,” Steve purred, wickedness curling his smile. 

“Maybe I do,” Danny agreed sardonically. 

“Danno! Hurry! They’re leaving!” Grace hollered, her steps following the turtles crawling down the grass and back to the beach. 

“Cover me. I’m going out,” Danny whimpered. Steve followed out onto the porch, hand planted firmly on his partner’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a nice, playful PWP, and kinda went all serious and maudlin on me. Minus the sex. WTF. 
> 
> Songs quoted include: Two Piña Coladas - Garth Brooks; What Hurts the Most - Rascal Flatts; Let Your Love Flow - The Bellamy Brothers


End file.
